


that's me and I want you only

by lunavagant



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Devotion, Hand Jobs, M/M, Praise Kink, richie is just That easy, very mild praise kink to be totally honest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23602777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunavagant/pseuds/lunavagant
Summary: “I’d love to finally meet him, you know,”Julia says.“You should bring him to the office party in March.”“Mh, what day is that again?” Eddie asks, absentmindedly. He adjusts his grip on Richie’s cock so that he’s rubbing at the sensitive spot on the underside that makes Richie whimper and his eyes glaze over, and listens to the way Richie’s breathing picks up at the light pressure. “Sure, office party. March 14th. I’ll ask him if he wants to come.”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 70
Kudos: 635
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	that's me and I want you only

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liesmyth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/gifts).



> For Elle, my favourite person. 
> 
> Title from Bruce Springsteen's _Thunder Road_

The first time Eddie picks up on it is a few months into their relationship. 

Even with two decades in between now and the last time they were together, Eddie still feels that he knows Richie like the back of his hand. It’s not entirely true of course, not in a lot of ways — he doesn’t know much at all about Richie’s college years, or about past relationships, or about where the fuck most of the dumbest shirts in his closet came from. But in the real, important ways — in the ways that matter, really, Eddie still feels like he can see through Richie better than anybody. 

Like most things, this, too, starts with Eddie looking. 

They’re getting brunch with Bill and Bev the first time he notices. Bill is in New York for a while to work on a new movie, and they’ve been seeing him a lot more than usual in the past month. It means that Richie has someone to talk to about his incomprehensible foreign cinema opinions — but it also means that their conversations sometimes take a turn that Eddie can’t really follow. 

This time, they’ve managed to rope Bev into a discussion about some producer they all know, and halfway through the conversation Eddie reaches out to take Richie’s hand and starts to play with it absentmindedly. 

It’s a simple gesture, really. Running his thumb over Richie’s knuckles and lacing their fingers together before releasing them again. It’s not the first time they've held hands in front of their friends, exactly — and Richie never loses out on an opportunity to make a lewd joke about their sex life or Eddie’s ass or to drape himself dramatically over Eddie and kissing him loudly — but this is different, somehow. It’s intimate in a way that Richie’s theatrics aren’t, in the quiet, private way they sometimes hold hands under the table, just for the two of them, Richie stroking his thumb over the back of Eddie’s hand in a comforting circular motion. 

It makes Richie lose his train of thought and stumble over his words, and it catches Bev’s eye. She grins at Eddie over her latte, and he grins right back and laces his fingers with Richie’s one last time. He doesn’t let go for the rest of the date. 

*

It happens again on a Saturday afternoon, while Eddie is on the phone with Julia from work. Richie always complains that Eddie never really has a day off even when he takes one, because he always just ends up on the phone or at his laptop at home instead, but Eddie knows that he likes Eddie being around even if he’s still sort-of working, just so that they can be in each other’s space. 

At some point during the call, Eddie put his laptop on the coffee table and shifted on the couch to sit with his back against the armrest so he could beckon Richie over to sit between his legs, back to Eddie’s chest and Eddie’s free arm looped around him. Richie had gone willingly, pressing himself close. 

Now, Eddie plays with the hem of Richie’s t-shirt as he talks with Julia about a project due for a presentation at the end of the week, and complains about the incompetence of various people on the team. _“God, fucking Jason,”_ Julia agrees when Eddie mentions the name. It makes Eddie snort into Richie’s hair, and Richie tilts his head back so he can smile up at him. 

It’s gotten so easy, being with Richie like this. Casual touches and displays of affection that he doesn’t have to overthink every single time, Richie always eager to let Eddie into his space, always leaning into Eddie’s own given the slightest opening. It still feels unreal, sometimes, to know that they can have this now. Eddie moves his hand under Richie’s shirt and splays his fingers over his stomach, stroking lightly over the soft skin.

 _“We need to go over those files before we talk to financial,”_ Julia is saying, with that far-away tone that means she’s staring at charts while she speaks. _“How’s Tuesday night sound?”_

Eddie shakes his head. “I can’t stay at the office on Tuesday, my boyfriend has a show in Brooklyn that night and I want to go.” 

He can’t see Richie’s face sitting like this, but he can picture the way he looks right now, eyes soft and cheeks flushed, all from a few touches and Eddie calling him his boyfriend to someone else. It’s incredibly endearing and somehow really, really hot. Richie’s stomach jumps under Eddie’s hand, and Eddie slowly trails his fingers down, past his navel and the elastic of his sweatpants to palm at Richie’s cock. 

“Yes, that’s him,” he says into the phone. He smiles to himself at the way Richie’s legs fall open to welcome the touch. He’s only halfway hard, but he silently angles his hips upward, seeking more pressure. On the other end of the call, Julia is still talking. 

“Thanks,” Eddie says, tracing the outline of Richie's erection. “I’m really proud of him.” 

He doesn’t miss the way Richie shudders at the words. Compliments always make Richie nervous — he doesn’t know how to accept one without turning it into a joke, and it puts people off sometimes, but Eddie knows it’s a defense mechanism before anything else. It’s not really that Richie doesn’t _like_ praise. Eddie has seen the way he ducks his head when someone says something nice about him, has seen how he looks just that little more comfortable in his own skin when there’s no punchline to the comment except for his own attempts to brush it aside. It’s not that Richie doesn’t want praise— in fact, Eddie is fairly confident that he’s afraid to show just how much he craves it, for fear that he will give too much of himself away in the process. 

Eddie moves his phone away from his ear and quickly leans in to press a kiss to Richie’s temple. “Be quiet,” he breathes, barely a whisper, and tugs at the waistband of Richie’s sweatpants once, making his intentions clear. 

Julia is still asking Eddie about Richie’s show, and Eddie keeps talking, his voice a steady rhythm of _yes_ , and _I’ll get you and Andy tickets to this set if you want, it’s a really good one_ , and _yeah, I_ am _happier, actually_. 

Richie pushes his pants and boxers down just enough for Eddie to wrap his fingers around him and lets himself fall back against Eddie’s chest, holding on to Eddie’s thigh like he needs to anchor himself, hips rolling slowly into the tight circle of Eddie’s hand. 

He’s so pretty like this, Eddie thinks, feeling a rush of familiar heat pool low in his stomach and a swell of unbridled affection mounting at the same time— Richie warm and heavy between Eddie’s legs, chest rising and falling erratically, trusting Eddie enough to let himself be touched like this. 

_“I’d love to finally meet him, you know,”_ Julia says. _“You should bring him to the office party in March.”_

“Mh, what day is that again?” Eddie asks, absentmindedly. He adjusts his grip on Richie’s cock so that he’s rubbing at the sensitive spot on the underside that makes Richie whimper and his eyes glaze over, and listens to the way Richie’s breathing picks up at the light pressure. “Sure, office party. March 14th. I’ll ask him if he wants to come.”

Richie’s breath hitches in his throat, and he clings to Eddie’s thigh. 

“He’s here right now, actually,” Eddie says. He flicks his wrist and strokes Richie faster, hand slick with precome and thumb sliding easily over the head. He can feel Richie’s muscles going taut with tension, legs shaking the way they always do when he’s close, and Eddie shuffles a bit so that he’s holding Richie even closer to his chest, and he asks, in the same steady tone, “Do you want to come, Rich?”

Richie’s hand flies up to his mouth to stifle a moan, and he does, his cock pulsing in Eddie’s hand, hips bucking up in small, aborted thrusts as Eddie works him through his orgasm.

Eddie grins into the phone, feeling elated and incredibly smug, his hand still moving over Richie’s dick. “He says yes.” 

*

So maybe it goes to Eddie’s head a little. So what. 

It’s just that Richie is so goddamn responsive to this, it makes Eddie feel like he’s constantly on a high. Or maybe its just the honeymoon phase of the relationship and all that jazz. How long is that supposed to last, six months? It doesn’t really matter, because Eddie is pretty sure that it’s always going to feel like this. It has since he was twelve, anyway. 

Eddie can remember the clubhouse, swaying back and forth in a hammock that was way too narrow for two fifteen year old boys, and the way Richie would go quiet when Eddie shuffled around so that he could rest his head on Richie’s shoulder to read a comic. He remembers Richie’s face when Eddie would pick the seat right next to him at the movies, and run up to Richie first when they all met at the quarry, and he remembers Richie needling him constantly to keep Eddie’s attention on him when they were in a group, and the bright, loud way he would laugh every time he succeeded. Eddie rarely complimented Richie outright back then — their friendship had been a carefully crafted system of fond insults and practiced excuses to be physically close to one another — but when he did, it was always forceful and earnest, almost offended at the thought that Richie didn’t think highly enough of himself, would never take Eddie seriously. 

It’s thrilling to finally realize the effect that Eddie openly appreciating Richie can actually have. 

Eddie starts to do it on purpose. 

He goes to Richie’s show that week and deliberately introduces himself to people who come up to him at the after-party as Richie’s boyfriend, and he makes a point of touching Richie a lot more than he usually does, some small part of his brain still clinging to the idea that his love for Richie is something that he should keep close to his chest and not let everyone see. 

He doesn’t miss the fact that Richie hovers closer than usual to him all evening, or the heated way he kisses Eddie when they finally get home, hands fumbling to undo the buttons of his shirt and burying his face in Eddie’s neck as he grinds against him. 

He starts to mentally catalog all the things that make Richie’s eyes go dark and make him press himself closer to Eddie’s side unselfconsciously. Richie has always been an affectionate person, both as a friend and as now a partner, but it’s a different thing altogether to watch his reactions when it’s Eddie who initiates things, openly complimenting Richie’s looks or one of his projects, or pulling him close in a public place where others can see. Richie gets quieter, his gaze more intense, and he clings just that little bit harder, accepts Eddie’s praise without cracking jokes about it. It’s addicting to watch. 

Tonight, Mike is in town, and Beverly is taking them out to dinner to celebrate them being all in the same city again for the first time in months. The restaurant she picked is a small place in downtown Manhattan that serves incredibly good wine, and by dessert Eddie is pleasantly tipsy and listening to Richie gossip with Bill about some Canadian director they either actively despise or desperately want to work with — Eddie isn’t entirely sure. It’s familiar and loud and easy, like everything around the rest of them often is, and it’s on instinct when Eddie reaches under the table to squeeze Richie’s knee, reassurance to both Richie and himself that he’s really here. 

“So do you want to get cast by this guy or do you want to fuck him?” Bev asks, reaching over to steal a piece of cake from Richie’s plate. Richie squats her hand away.

“Easy, Marsh, I am a taken man.”

“He is,” Eddie says calmly. His head is buzzing pleasantly, and his hand is still sitting on Richie’s knee. He splays his fingers, brushing his thumb over the denim of his jeans. 

“You aren’t tired of him yet?” Bill grins playfully. It’s the kind of joke they all make often — the kind of joke that Richie often makes about himself, and it’s harmless enough, because Richie knows that they don’t mean it, that _Eddie_ doesn’t mean it, but something about it now makes Eddie drag his hand higher up on Richie’s leg, fingers curling protectively around the inside of his thigh.

“No, I love him,” he says, heart soaring at the way Richie’s eyes widen a bit when he turns to look at him. Eddie smiles. “I’m pretty sure I’m keeping him.”

Bev makes a cooing sound, and Eddie tells her to shut up without taking his eyes away from Richie, who is still looking at him funny. It isn’t the first time Eddie has said the words to him, but he has never said them in front of anyone else before, and it feels good to do it. It comes with a weird rush of possessiveness, and there’s no real reason for it, but suddenly Eddie wants the entire world to know that Richie’s with him, that Richie is _his_ , and that they’re going home together after this. He wants it to be obvious to anyone who’d look. 

He traces the inseam of Richie’s jeans, letting the noise and the others’ voices wash over him. It’s thrilling, and incredibly inappropriate, and Eddie feels a pang of arousal when Richie spreads his legs a bit, allowing Eddie better access. Eddie keeps his hand there, rubbing slow circles into the inside of Richie’s thigh, almost close enough to brush his dick but not quite daring to, and Richie just leans forward to rest his elbows on the table, letting his legs fall open a little more. 

Richie stands stiffly when they get up to leave, and Eddie notices how quickly he shrugs on his coat and buttons it up — Richie never buttons up his coats, even in the snow, and it drives Eddie crazy. It’s driving him crazy now for a very different reason. 

It’s a short drive back to their place, and Richie is all over him the second Eddie closes the door behind them, pressing him back against it and crowding in close. Eddie kisses him deep, threading his fingers through Richie’s hair and scratching his nails against the scalp to feel him shudder, and Richie does, leaning into the touch. Eddie thinks about the way he looked at the restaurant, pupils blown wide, and about the desperate way he’s grinding against Eddie now, barely inside their apartment. 

“I love you,” he says into the kiss, walking them blindly toward the bedroom, and Richie groans.

“God, why did you say it like that, are you trying to kill me?” 

“You liked it,” Eddie says simply. “You like it when I tell people that you’re good to me.”

“Jesus, Eddie.”

He’s tugging clumsily at Eddie’s clothes, trying to get them out of the way. He manages to get him out of his jacket and shirt, and Eddie reaches back to tug his undershirt over his head. 

He feels drunk on the way Richie gets when they're like this, the way he melts and arches into Eddie’s every touch, like Eddie’s hands on him, even in the simplest of ways, are enough to drive him out of his mind. He wants Richie to know that he loves him in the way that Richie wants. He wants him to know how much Eddie wants him.

He trails his hand down to rub lightly at the front of Richie’s pants, and Richie’s breath hitches as he angles his hips up into Eddie’s touch, whimpering when Eddie cups his hand and presses down a little harder. 

“You like this, too,” he says. He unbuttons Richie’s jeans and reaches inside to wrap his hand around him over the fabric of his boxers, squeezing him lightly. “Did it make you hard, earlier, just me saying that?”

When Richie nods, Eddie starts stroking him with more purpose, feeling the wet patch already forming around the head. He swipes his thumb over it, and Richie gasps, hips twitching.

“God, Rich, you feel so good in my hand— I wanted to touch you so bad at dinner." Eddie doesn't know where this is coming from, but it's clearly doing it for Richie as much as it is for him. "You wanted that, didn’t you? Wanted me to keep touching you right in front of our friends?” 

“Eds, Jesus _fuck_.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes— fuck, yeah, I wanted it,” Richie’s voice breaks on the words, eyes fluttering shut. “Always— always want it.”

“Bed, come on,” Eddie says, impatient. He pushes Richie back until he’s lying on his back and Eddie can hook his fingers around the waistband of his jeans and drag them down along with his boxers. Richie’s cock is a familiar weight in his hand, swollen and leaking against his stomach. Eddie wants to _ruin_ him. 

“Eds,” Richie says again. 

“Is that good?” he asks, a little pointlessly, given the way Richie’s hips are stuttering forward into his hand with every stroke. Richie nods again, and Eddie watches hungrily as Richie struggles to keep his eyes open and his breath quickens, and feels boiling heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. 

He’s not planning on making Richie come like this, exactly, but he finds himself unwilling to stop when he notices the telltale signs that Richie is getting close. He speeds up the movement of his hand, tight, short strokes over the crown of Richie’s dick until he’s whining and bucking up into Eddie’s fist, coming all over his own stomach and Eddie’s fingers. Eddie can do nothing but stare for a moment, transfixed. Then he leans down and presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the head of Richie’s softening cock, tongue pressing down against the slit. Richie sobs like it’s being ripped out of him, hips jerking up and hands fisting into the sheets. 

_He likes this_ , Eddie thinks, likes Eddie being in control. Everything Richie ever does around him feels like he’s begging for Eddie’s attention, and when he has it, focused and undivided like this, he always falls apart under it. 

He thinks about taking Richie into his mouth and keeping him there, licking at the sensitive head of his cock until Richie is shaking under him, just to see how far he could push this before it truly gets too much. Instead, he presses a kiss to Richie’s hipbone and crawls back up the bed. 

Richie’s eyes are a little glassy, his pupils blown so wide they're almost black, and he immediately reaches for Eddie to pull him down against his lips. 

The kiss is deep and messy, Richie angling his head up and slowly pushing his tongue into Eddie’s mouth, whining low in his throat and letting Eddie take charge as soon as he feels him respond. Eddie’s own arousal is a warm, heavy pressure in his belly, and he hisses in relief when Richie moves his hand to press against his erection, past the elastic of his boxers, fingers closing around Eddie and stroking him once, slowly, and then again.

Richie, even after all these months, still kisses him like a question. 

Eddie wants to keep giving him all the answers he’s looking for.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for the positive feedback on this!


End file.
